A Werewolf in Hogwarts
by Medievaleagle5
Summary: Remus Lupin is offered a life-changing opportunity, to become a professor at the famed Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The only catch is, he must return home to a place where he is alone, unwelcome and discriminated against. Only one person remains in England for him- a black haired boy with green eyes. For Harry Potter, Remus Lupin will return to face his demons.


Chapter 1: A Knock at the Door

A knock on the door dragged Remus Lupin from his thoughts. With bleary eyes, he glanced at the clock on the wall.

"Tea time? Tea time, already?" he muttered to himself. He glanced down at the papers that lay scattered before him and dropped the pencil he was holding. Muggle writing supplies were far cheaper than parchment, ink and quills, and Remus' meager correspondence based income did not allow for such extravagant purchases. The knock sounded again, and Remus sighed. He waved his wand over the mess and watched as the supplies packed themselves away in the old briefcase his friends had gifted him in another lifetime.

"Just a mo', yeah?" he called, a hint of annoyance in his voice. He brushed his fingers through his hair to flatten the research-induced tousled locks and popped a mint into his mouth. Another flick of his wand set the kettle to heating and the biscuits he hadn't had the budget for arranged themselves on a small plate. A last glance around his small, wholesome flat brought a sigh to his lips, and with slow steps, he moved to open the door.

The man standing on the other side was nearly unrecognizable. Short of the long, very white beard and the twinkling blue eyes, Albus Dumbledore looked very little like what he was- one of the most powerful wizards ever to have lived. He was also, among many other titles, Remus' former headmaster.

"Headmaster," he said, tipping his head respectfully and offering a slight twitch of his lips.

"Young Mr. Lupin, a pleasure to see you again," Dumbledore replied, smiling broadly. Rather than the garish robes his students were accustomed to seeing, the Headmaster was dressed in a sharp-fitting, gray suit with a deep purple vest and a matching bow-tie that was barely visible under the neatly braided beard. Remus glanced down and a smile crossed his lips when he noticed his reflection in the Headmaster's very shiny black shoes.

"You look well, sir," he said, offering his hand.

"As do you, my boy," Dumbledore replied as their hands shook.

"That's kind of you to say, Professor. Please, come in?" Remus stood back and held the door for the older man.

"There is no need to call me 'Professor', Remus, I haven't been your headmaster in many years. Albus is fine."

"Albus, then," Remus replied. "What brings you to tea?" Remus was unsure what to do, and watched as the older wizard took in his surroundings.

"Ah, well, Remus, we'll get to that. Tell me, how have you been? Minerva tells me your letters are few and far between these days, and no one seems to hear from you much anymore."

Instantly, Remus felt on edge. His eyes hardened and his good humor fled.

"You know why that is, sir," he said, nearly growling. His heart constricted in his chest as he fought back memories he had tried to forget. "There's nothing in that world for me anymore, sir. I can't hold a job, I can't go to the bank, or to the hospital, or even to any of the shops. My friends are dead. My family is dead." He pushed away thoughts of the one 'friend' he had left, not truly dead, but dead for all intents and purposes. "The wizarding world turned its back on me long ago, Albus."

"Ah, Remus, I admit you've had a crueler life than most, but you do still have friends and people who care for you. People who care a great deal, at that." He held up a hand when Remus opened his mouth to object. "I did not come to France to argue with you, Mr. Lupin," he said.

"Then why are you here?" Remus scowled when he heard the tone his words had come out in. He sounded… vulnerable. He fought to get his emotions back under control, and was therefore distracted when Dumbledore's next words hit their mark.

"I've come to offer you a job."

It took a few moments for the impact of those words to strike. When they did, Remus let out a laugh.

"A job," he scoffed. "What job could you possibly offer me that I would truly be able to accept?"

"Do not doubt me, Remus. I have always had your interests at heart. I've come to offer you a teaching position."

Remus couldn't help it- he couldn't keep the maniacal laughter contained anymore. He laughed loud and long, so hard that his stomach hurt and he couldn't catch his breath. "Me?! A _teacher_?" He chortled some more, shaking his head. The tea kettle on the stove began whistling, but Remus ignored it. Instead, he dug out the last bottle of Ogden's he'd brought when he crossed the channel. He tipped his head back and swallowed two mouthfuls, gritting his teeth as his throat burned and his belly warmed. His eyes, when he looked back at his former headmaster, were hard and yellow as amber, a look that would have given anyone else pause.

"A teacher," he growled, glaring at the man who had given him so much, only to take it all away again in one night thirteen years before. "How dare you. How _dare_ you come here and offer me that. After everything, Albus, haven't I paid enough?" His voiced cracked on the last word and he was mortified to realize there were angry tears streaming down his face.

Remus was angrier that he'd been in years. Dumbledore had managed to hit on the one secret desire he had- Remus had always wanted to teach, but he'd never told anyone other than the Marauders, and even that was only after they'd gotten him so drunk he'd turned green. He'd never told anyone his secret dream, because he'd known that it would never have been possible. Why give himself, or anyone else (his mother) hope that he'd make something of himself? Remus had left that dream behind with everything else in England. He had fled his home the day he'd buried his friends and had never looked back.

"Haven't you taken enough from me, Professor?" he spat, taking another swig from the bottle to try to hide his tears.

The bottle was snatched from his hand and a jet of ice cold water slapped him in the face, shocking him into action. He lunged, only to be thrown back into a chair that had been conjured behind him. Before he could move, leather straps wrapped around his chest, pinning him to the seat.

"I'm surprised at you, Remus," Dumbledore said. He moved to the stove and lifted the kettle off the burner. He then summoned two teacups, ignoring the chips in the rims, and poured them each a drink. He added a dash of firewhiskey to both and set them on the small dinette table.

Remus' thoughts were churning, but he didn't know where to start, so he kept his mouth shut and watched as Dumbledore sat across from him.

"Really, Remus, I am surprised. I had not expected your anger. No, let me finish," he said when Remus opened his mouth to respond. "I admit, you have lost a great deal, my boy. You've had an unfairly harsh life. I have always done what I could to ease your burden, and would have done more in recent years if I had thought you'd accept it. I was your headmaster for seven years, boy, we worked together for three more after that in the Order. I thought, well, hoped, anyway, you understood that I cared for you, that I understood."

Remus felt guilt licking at his conscience and quickly turned it over to anger, rage pushing shame away. There would be time for shame later. "Bullshit!" he spat. "Maybe when I was a child, Albus. I will be forever grateful for your help in allowing me to attend Hogwarts, given what I am. But _don't_ tell me my work for the Order was done out of care for me. You sent me away. You sent me away and they _died_! They died and he… and he…" Angry tears spilled down his cheeks again.

"And _Harry_," His voice lowered, the pain evident as that one name slipped between his lips. He looked up at the older wizard, tears still leaking, and all of the pain and heartbreak was evident on his face. "You wouldn't even let me see him, Albus. He was all any of us had left, and you took even that. Don't you dare sit there and tell me those years were in my best interest. Don't you dare. Say your piece, Professor. Say your piece and leave me alone."

Dumbledore watched this outburst and sighed. "Forgive me, Mr. Lupin," he said, his voice hollow. "Truly. I did not realize you felt this way. Still, my offer is genuine. I would like to offer you a position at Hogwarts. The Defense Against the Dark Arts post is once again open, and after Gilderoy," Remus snorted but kept his mouth shut.

"Quite. After Mr. Lockhart, the students need someone competent, compassionate and supportive, someone who can encourage them and truly teach them. I believe that you can be that teacher."

"I cannot believe you offered that arrogant tosspot Gilderoy Lockhart a teaching position. I assume he made them all buy his books and spent lessons quizzing them on his greatness? You're slipping, Professor. Lockhart isn't qualified to shine my shoes, let alone teach children. You know he didn't even write those books, yeah? He paid someone to do it for him." The leather straps binding him to the chair had long since fallen away, and Remus paused to sip his tea.

"Why me?" he asked, looking up, the anger fading away to be replaced by an earnest, hopeful expression.

"Remus, my boy, you have all those qualities and more. Your work during the war stands for itself- you are a capable and talented duelist, something the older students need. You have experience teaching even the most stubborn and poorly equipped students to be successful. Yes, Remus, I know you are the reason Mr. Pettigrew passed his O.W.L.S. You have a strong background in magical creatures," he paused when Remus snorted.

"Don't snort at me, Remus Lupin, I do not appreciate it. I was not referring to yourself, although you have an invaluable perspective. Your father's work with boggarts and hinkypunks is well known, your own with red caps is some of the best work I've seen in years. You can understand mermish, one of the most difficult languages known to wizards, and you, regardless of your affliction, seem to have an affinity for dwarves and centaurs. I know for a fact you've explored every last reach of the forest as well as the depths of the Black Lake. You and your friends were not nearly as sneaky as you thought you were." Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled as he thought back to his memories of four young, marauding Gryffindors.

"Not to mention, lad, that your published works have gained the attention of several of your former professors. Minerva herself demanded I offer you the position after reading John Roman's treatise on grindylows."

"How did you..." Remus trailed off when the headmaster threw his head back and laughed.

"Remus Lupin, I'm surprised at you. You don't honestly think that Professors McGonagall and Flitwick wouldn't have recognized your writing? I'll have you know, Minerva has many of your articles stuck to the walls in her office, not that she would ever share that knowledge with a former student."

Remus summoned the bottle of firewhiskey and took another large swallow, his mind swimming. He felt…. He wasn't sure what he felt. Pride, and awe, and dumbfounded that someone recognized his work, even so many years later. After another swallow, he set the bottle down.

"My offer is genuine, Remus," Dumbledore said, a soft smile playing at his lips.

"What about..." He was cut off again.

"Your lycanthropy was handled as a student, it will be again as a professor, Mr. Lupin. Have you had the opportunity to try the Wolfsbane potion? I believe Mr. Belby was a classmate of yours, wasn't he?" When Remus nodded, Dumbledore continued. "I understand the cost is prohibitive, but the potion would be provided to you as part of your compensation. Additionally, you will have room and board provided, your travel expenses will be covered, and we will offer a small monthly supply stipend in addition to a modest salary."

Remus tried to take it all in, but the offer was staggering in its generosity. There was one question he needed answered before he could tell himself this was for real.

"What about the moon, sir? I won't go back to the shack, Professor. I can't." He was unwilling to share the reasons why, and breathed a small sigh of relief when the headmaster didn't press.

"Warding has come a long way, Mr. Lupin. With the potion and sunrise wards on your quarters, you would be quite safe in your own space. The professors' quarters are well-hidden and strongly warded. The quarters we have set aside for your use occupy an entire floor of the west tower. The doors are reinforced and warded, and an additional ward will be placed on the night of the full moon. Minerva herself has offered to place the ward and remain outside in case you have need of her. The students and staff, and yourself as well, Remus, will be well protected."

Remus didn't know what to say. His mind was racing, the thoughts jumbling together. It was true, he had always wanted to teach. He had tutored many students, not just Peter, over the course of his seven years at Hogwarts. He occasionally offered his services to the Beauxbatons Academy when children of prominent families desired a more impressive or interactive course load. He was afraid to hope, though. Afraid that like everything else he'd ever had in his life, this would be ripped away too. He wasn't sure he could handle the disappointment if this didn't work out. The longer he sat in silence, however, the more obvious it became that his joy and hope was overwhelming the fear. He had one last question. Taking a fortifying swig of firewhiskey, he raised his gaze to the headmaster.

"Give me one reason, Albus. One more reason to make me go back."

Albus sat back in his chair and folded his hands on the table. He could see the hope on Remus' face, and was unsure if it was hope for a reason to accept, or hope that he couldn't offer one more inducement. He sighed, not wanting to play this one last card, but knew if he did, he would secure himself a Defense professor. It felt unfair to play this card, but in the end, the students at Hogwarts deserved a teacher of Remus Lupin's caliber.

"Harry Potter is at Hogwarts."

The bottle of firewhiskey crashed to the table, the expensive liquid spilling across the old, beaten wood. Remus, a man of meager possessions, who was more frugal with money, food and drink than the meanest Gringott's goblin, stared across the table, ignoring the mess. The instant Dumbledore spoke the name, his heart had stuttered in his chest. His eyes welled up as a love long forgotten burst from him. His shoulders began to shake as his vision blurred, and Remus folded his arms on the table, put his face down on top of them, and began to sob.

Albus, while pleased he'd gotten his wish, felt his own heart wrench in his chest at the emotion pouring from the younger man. _"Oh Remus,"_ he thought to himself, _"I know it doesn't feel like it, but I promise, keeping you from him was necessary."_

When the sobs began to quiet and the tears slowed, Albus reached out and siphoned the whiskey away with his wand, then patted Remus' hand.

"I'll see you in August, then, for our back to school meetings. Look for my owl, Remus. I will be in touch."

When Remus lifted his head, he was alone, the door just snicking shut behind the smart-dressed wizard.

"I never said yes!" he shouted, knowing his protest would fall on deaf ears. "I never said yes," he murmured to himself. He got up from the table and made his way to his small bedroom. Buried in a box at the back of his small closet was an even smaller box he had refused to look at for twelve long years.

"Harry," he breathed, as his fingers traced the rounded cheeks of the black-haired baby swaddled in a blue blanket and held is his own much younger arms. He barely recognized himself in the photo, the soft smile on his face as unfamiliar as the joy currently warming his heart.

"Harry Potter," he said again, smiling gently at the picture. "For you, Prongs, Lily, I'll go back. I'll look out for your boy. Our boy. I'm going to be a teacher, Prongs," he said, a wide grin breaking out on his face. "Looks like that briefcase wasn't wishful thinking after all."


End file.
